Together
by 427-67Impala
Summary: Some people don't even have to know Sam and Dean are brothers to get upset that they're together. Naturally, they pick on Sam - until Dean comes to the rescue and sets them straight, so to speak. Some violence, established relationship, ultra-mild Wincest: no citrus. Oneshot.


_Title:_ Together  
><em>Author:<em> 427-67Impala  
><em>Rating:<em> T  
><em>Warnings:<em> Some violence, established relationship, ultra-mild Wincest (no citrus)  
><em>Word count:<em> 2,995  
><em>Setting:<em> Season 1

Some people don't even have to know Sam and Dean are brothers to get upset that they're together. Naturally, they pick on Sam - until Dean comes to the rescue and sets them straight, so to speak. Oneshot.

_A/N:_ This was inspired by a recent news story down here in Australia, concerning a Queensland public health campaign called 'Rip & Roll', which set out to promote safe sex among gay couples. Its posters were removed from bus shelters/public transport/billboards/etc. by the advertising company after the Australian Christian Lobby secretly co-ordinated a bunch of complaints. The ACL got caught, naturally, and the advertising company quickly reinstated the ads. The ACL now wants us to believe its objection was to the promotion of condom use and not to homosexuality itself, but either way: that's not cool. The whole debacle brought a mini plot bunny to mind and I found myself writing this oneshot...

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><p><em>Douglas, Georgia<em>

"Time to go, Sammy. We're leaving early tomorrow." Dean slapped Sam on the shoulder and the younger Winchester looked up from the local paper, where he'd been reading the obituaries.

_Finally,_ he thought. He'd been waiting for Dean to say that for _hours_! Unlike his older brother, Sam wasn't keen on celebrating the end of a hunt in the smoky, beer-soaked bars that appealed to Dean. Their motel was just down the street, within walking distance, but he knew Dean liked him to be close by so he sat in as many dark, dingy bars for as long Dean wanted to stay.

Sam never told him that, though. Dean would have declared it a 'chick flick moment' and probably called him 'Samantha' or something, and Sam didn't enjoy that good-natured ribbing quite as much as Dean seemed to. So he wordlessly folded up the newspaper and followed Dean out of the dim, stuffy bar and into the clear, warm Georgia night.

As they started off down the deserted street towards the motel, Sam had just opened his mouth to ask what time they were leaving the next morning when Dean leaned across and kissed him fleetingly on the lips. Sam was more than a little surprised by this, because his big brother usually avoided public displays of affection like the plague.

It's not that Dean wasn't an affectionate boyfriend. He couldn't keep his hands off Sam in the privacy of the Impala or their latest motel room, but Sam could count on his fingers the number of times Dean had kissed him in public. Granted, they hadn't been dating (or whatever you wanted to call it) for all that long, and Sam had quickly realised this wasn't like any other relationship he'd ever been in.

Even though they'd both secretly wanted it for years, it was a little weird when Sam and Dean first started actually 'going out'. Not only did they have to contend with the cave-dwellers that disapproved (and worse) of same-sex relationships, they had to decide before they started each new hunt whether they were going to introduce themselves as brothers or boyfriends, because the only thing that could get them into more trouble than being 'those gay guys' was to be outed as brothers at the same time. That almost never ended well - society might be getting more tolerant, but very few people were _that_ open-minded.

Dean, having had more than a few beers, didn't notice the look of surprise that passed across Sam's face. He slid his hands up under Sam's shirt and onto his washboard abs, pressed him up against the red brick façade of the bar and kissed him again - this time, Sam kissed him back.

No matter how much he did it, he never got tired of kissing those lips. They were like smooth, silky marshmallows, and Dean knew how to use them. The first time he'd kissed Dean, and Dean had kissed him back, Sam had wondered how any girl his brother had been with could ever have given up these lips. He certainly never intended to.

Just as suddenly as he started it, Dean ended the impromptu encounter. He left Sam standing up against the wall and continued walking down the street. It took Sam a second to gather his thoughts and follow, but a few jogging steps saw him back by his brother's side.

"Do you enjoy teasing me or something?" Sam asked, trying his best to sound annoyed, but Dean just chuckled.

"You know you love it, Sammy." He grinned, and Sam had to smile - he _did_ enjoy it when Dean teased him. More than he was willing to admit.

Suddenly, Dean made a hard right turn and started across the deserted road to the other side of the street. Sam found himself jogging after his brother for the second time that night, again having no idea what Dean was doing.

"Dean! What the hell?" Sam caught up with his brother just as he stepped up onto the footpath.

"Gotta make a pit stop." Dean nodded towards the liquor store half a block in front of them, which was the only thing other than the bar open at this time of night.

"No cheap whiskey, huh?" Sam suggested as they walked, and Dean looked at him questioningly. "It stays on your breath, and I hate the taste." Sam smiled, and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Would you prefer I get peppermint schnapps? Or maybe amaretto?" he teased, good-naturedly, and Sam punched him playfully in the shoulder.

"I'm going to hang around out here. Don't take forever, okay?" Sam leaned up against a tree near the front of the liquor store.

"Whiskey would be fast, Sammy. You can't have it both ways!" Dean smiled, pushing the door open and disappearing inside. Sam turned his back to the store, shaking his head. He loved his brother, but Goddammit, Dean knew how to push his buttons.

It was a beautiful, warm night and Sam soon found himself looking up to the clear sky above while he waited, at what stars were visible through the city's light pollution. He was tracing the few constellations he could make out when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Hey. Pretty boy."

A thick Southern accent accompanied the footsteps, and Sam turned around to see a group of four tall, athletic-looking young men approaching. Two of them separated from the others, flanking him, and Sam's good mood evaporated as he suddenly got the feeling they didn't just want to chat.

"What can I do for you?" Sam asked, warily, keeping an eye on the two flanking him. They were only just in his peripheral vision, but they seemed to be staying back for now.

_Hurry up, Dean - I'm going to need help with these guys..._ He threw a quick glance back at the doorway of the liquor store, but it stayed unhelpfully shut. He'd have to stand his ground and wait to see what these cretins were going to do next.

One of the two young men standing directly in front of Sam took a little step forward. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, like the other three, but while they wore old workboots or sneakers he wore cowboy boots. Even from almost six feet away, Sam could smell the tequila on his breath.

"It's not about what you can do for us. It's about you and that other guy - we don't want your kind in our town," he informed Sam, sneering.

"'Our kind'?" Sam was genuinely confused, but that only seemed to make them angrier.

"We saw you, you fag!" spat the guy standing next to Cowboy Boots, and it dawned on Sam what was going on. They'd seen him with Dean outside the bar, and evidently they didn't approve.

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but fortunately he thought about it first: "It's okay - he's my brother" was definitely only going to make things worse.

"We don't want to see homos gettin' all cosy on the streets. This is a family town." Cowboy Boots took a couple more steps towards Sam, heels clicking on the concrete. His friends did the same and suddenly Sam was surrounded by four homophobic, liquored-up Neanderthals.

"Look, let me explain -" he started, trying to keep an eye on all of them as he spoke. That was impossible, of course, and Sam didn't even realise one of them had got behind him until he smashed an empty beer bottle across his head. He saw stars and dropped to his knees, hand pressed against a cut on the back of his skull.

Before Sam could lift a finger to fight back, or even open his mouth to call for help, all four men set upon him - kicking, punching and hurling insults. They drove him the rest of the way to the ground, until he was laying on the cold cement sidewalk, but Sam did his best to fend them off.

He tried to keep his arms up to protect his head and kicked out hard at the only thing within range: the shins of the guy wearing the cowboy boots. Sam felt one kick make solid contact, and heard Cowboy Boots swear as his knee buckled under him with an ominous-sounding _snap_. He limped away, letting the other three continue the attack with renewed venom, but continued hurling insults at the youngest Winchester even as he leaned against a nearby mailbox to hold himself up.

A workboot-clad foot caught Sam in the head before he could congratulate himself on putting Cowboy Boots out of the fight, and everything went dim for a few seconds as he fought to stay awake. He had no hope of fighting them off and he knew it, so he did the only thing he could: he curled up into a ball, covered his head and waited for either that lucky kick that would knock him out, or for someone to step in and help him.

Although Sam was doing his best to protect his head, he could feel blood running down his face from a cut above his left eyebrow, and a couple of kicks that got through his defences made things a little fuzzy. He almost didn't notice when Dean came running out of the liquor store and immediately set upon the men attacking his little brother.

"Get the hell away from him!" Dean shouted at the trio still laying into Sam as he shoved Cowboy Boots out of his way.

"We're teaching this guy a lesson - we don't want you fags making out on our streets!" The guy who had been standing next to Cowboy Boots when they first approached tried to stop him, but Dean punched him hard enough to put him on his ass, with a broken jaw to boot.

"You don't get to tell me I can't touch him in public, you redneck asshole! What I do with my boyfriend is none of your business!" Dean almost kicked the guy for good measure, but thought better of it and left him cowering on the pavement. Instead, he went for the two men still trying to do as much damage to Sam as they could.

Sam saw Dean go for the guy kicking him around the head first, so he kicked out at the one nearest his feet, knocking him down onto the ground. He was getting back up to continue the fight, but when he saw his friend's broken jaw and the beating Dean was giving the only other guy still standing, he chose to help Cowboy Boots pick up the guy with the broken jaw and make a getaway. After one last punch, Dean let the last one get up and follow his buddies off down the street.

As the four Neanderthals scampered, Dean sat on his heels next to his brother. "Christ, Sam, are you okay?" he asked, brow creased and biting his bottom lip as he helped Sam sit up - his baby brother had a split lip, a cut over his left eyebrow, and a few purple bruises around his jaw and cheekbone.

"I think so," Sam replied, slowly - he couldn't feel any broken bones, and his head was starting to clear up. "You know, I actually don't feel too bad. You turned up before they could do any real damage," he added, kind of surprised his injuries weren't worse. Those guys had meant business.

"Okay - let's get the hell out of here then." The relief showed in Dean's voice as he helped Sam get to his feet. He retrieved the bottle he'd left by the liquor store's door, then they started the walk back to their motel; it was only a couple of blocks, but Sam was moving pretty slowly so it took twice as long as it should have.

By the time they got to their room and Dean got the door open, Sam was _very_ ready to lay down and rest. Dean watched his baby brother limp over to the bed, still wearing the same smile he'd had on his face the whole way back from the liquor store.

"Are you sure you're okay? 'Cause I'm pretty sure you shouldn't be smiling like that after what just happened - you sure you haven't got a concussion?" Dean was genuinely concerned, given the cuts and bruises scattered all over his little brother's face and the rapidly-swelling goose egg by his left temple.

"No, I'm feeling okay. I kept my head pretty well covered," Sam replied, honestly, still smiling.

"Okay, dude - what's going on? What could you possibly be so happy about?" Dean asked, shutting and locking the door. He checked the salt lines at the door and windows out of habit as Sam sat gingerly down on the queen-sized bed.

"You called me your boyfriend," Sam replied simply, but Dean stared at him like he was speaking Greek.

"What are you talking about? That's what you are." Dean narrowed his eyes, now almost certain his little brother had a concussion.

"Dean, you never admit we're together. You've even lied to people that assumed we're lovers, and told them we were 'only brothers'." Sam explained, not surprised Dean didn't understand. He was well aware that relationships weren't his brother's strong suit.

"So? What's your point?" Dean asked, as he went into the bathroom to grab a washcloth - he sensed Sam was driving at something, but he had no idea what it was.

Sam heard Dean wetting the washcloth in the sink, and waited until he reappeared in the doorway before he answered the question. "It's just... sometimes I wonder if you're ashamed. You don't seem to want the world to know we're together." Sam finally spelled it out, and was surprised by the resulting expression on Dean's face. He looked confused and crestfallen, and Sam immediately realised the answer had hurt him.

"You think I'm ashamed to be with you?" Dean asked, quietly, and Sam started to wish he hadn't said anything.

"No, no - of course not! It's not that I think you don't love me, Dean; I know you do. I _never_ doubt that," Sam replied earnestly, reaching out to grab Dean's hand as his brother walked towards him, but wincing and pulling his arm back when he discovered his shoulder hurt like hell when it moved that way.

"I just want you to show it, you know?" Sam added, cradling his arm against his body as Dean sat next to him on the bed and pressed the cool washcloth to the cut on his forehead.

"I'm not ashamed to be with you, Sam. I only tell people we're brothers because it's easier to do the job if we're 'just brothers' - not everyone trusts 'the gay guys', you know? Like the four lovely young men we met down the street," Dean told him, concentrating intently on wiping the blood from his lover's face so he didn't actually have to look Sam in the eye. He'd obviously thought about this a lot more than Sam had given him credit for.

"Honestly, I like that what we have is just between us. I like having you all to myself." A smile touched Dean's lips as he continued, and Sam couldn't believe his luck - here was Dean actually talking about his feelings and embracing the 'chick flick moment'. This was a rare thing indeed, and Sam intended to make the most of it.

"I'm always going to be all yours, Dean, whether we're here in the motel room or in the middle of town. I'm not saying I want to participate in the Douglas Gay Pride March or whatever, but I don't want you to feel like we should hide," Sam said, and Dean smiled.

"I'm not sure they have a Gay Pride March around here, Sam," he replied, drily, and Sam chuckled. Given the events of the night, he could believe that.

"So, what, you wanna hold hands walking down the street or something?" Dean went on, the familiar teasing tone back in his voice. Sam laughed and, with the chick-flick moment over, laid back tentatively on the bed.

"I want you to get possessive when someone hits on me. When we're sitting in a bar and you feel like it - and I know you do sometimes - I want you to kiss me. The things you'd do if you were with a girl," Sam told him, and Dean grinned.

"When I'm with you, I am - _Samantha_," he replied, and while Sam rolled his eyes Dean just went on smiling. "Face it, Sammy - you're the woman in this relationship. Better get used to it." Dean patted his little brother's thigh, then got up to get them both a drink.

"I'll try not to keep us such a secret, though. I love you, and I love being with you, so why shouldn't I want people to see it?" he added, breaking the seal on the bottle of Wild Turkey. Dean was clearly warming to the idea, and right then Sam was almost glad those guys had jumped him - it was worth it, just to get Dean to open up.

"Not that it'll matter now, but I didn't get the cheap stuff." Dean informed Sam, handing him his glass as he sat up against the pillows at the head of the bed. Sam smiled at Dean as he sipped the amber fluid, and Dean smiled back. Sam might be the bottom in the relationship, but Dean was putty in his hands - they both knew it, even if Dean would never admit it.

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><p><em>The names those guys called Sam were by far my least favourite part of this fic, but the plot bunny d<em>_e__manded it. :(_

_So, now that you've read the shortest fic I've ever written, what did you think? I don't mind if it's only one sentence: please let me know how I did! Reviews are love... :) And, if you e__n__joyed it, hit the 'share' button at the top of the page and __tell someone__!_


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